A Child Too Weak (Poem)

[adamrobinson]

Thrice I say my heart is blue
for in the doorway stands a stolen child
holding the cross that bore his future cold.
A few pencil shavings by his right foot
a necklace fallen by his left.
What meagre fate must owe his laugh to stone – in the amber notes of youth?
It’s a product of the wind
beating the kite’s ribbon blue.